


Cafes That Serve Alcohol

by themadjaguar57



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Athena POV, Explosions, F/F, Femslash, Gratuitous Coffeeshop AU but like on an isladn, Swearing, Vomit, gonna be a long one folks, i'm hoping this comes out well and not entirely trashy, really gay, sex things will not happen for a while so i'm leaving it NR for now kk kiddos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:49:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4109662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themadjaguar57/pseuds/themadjaguar57
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athena is on the run from the results of her former profession and Moxxi offers her an out: go to this island and do some "stuff".  Turns out "stuff" is co-managing a cafe with a robot and making sure the other employees don't kill each other or the customers.  Also there's probably some health code violation about a cafe being right next to a scrap shop, but this is Pandora and there are no health codes.  Also the blonde Aussie who runs the shop is kinda hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cafes That Serve Alcohol

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Gratuitous Coffeeshop AU but like, better because its on an island in the Caribbean and it's owned by Moxxi.

Athena cannot swim. This was to be expected, since she was raised in a desert military base, worked in mostly unnamed desert military bases, and in general did not receive vacation days, the only exception being ‘vacation days’ which were spent in the same desert military bases, but with less murder and one packet of astronaut ice cream. In summary, a whole lot of sand, but none in relation to beaches of any kind. Athena has also never been on a boat before, which is why when Moxxi asked about seasickness she said no because how could Athena get seasick that would be ridiculous she murdered and drove recklessly for a living how could she have seasickness.

Athena finishes vomiting into a bucket, then empties it over the side of the boat. The crew got tired of watching her to make sure she doesn’t go flying off into the water when she runs between port and starboard, so they gave her the bucket and check on her every hour to see if she needs to be moved. Generally she snaps at them and waves her arm in a ‘fuck off’ kind of direction, and they leave her to retch, but once every 48 hours she falls asleep so they put a blanket on her and leave her be. They tried to carry her belowdecks to her bunk once, but she tried to decapitate the crew member with the puke bucket, so now they just walk around.

Athena is on this shitty cargo boat because she had decided she needed a change of pace from hiding in safe houses, and also because covering up political assassinations and arson costs a shit ton of money. Moxxi had decided about a week ago that it was time to collect. Unfortunately, this involved being shipped out to Moxxi’s island, Pandora, which most people usually assumed was some form of resort, but was most definitely not. It was originally uninhabited due to the horrific animal population, an assortment of rabid, poisonous, and potentially intelligent beasts. These were eliminated some time in the past century when the government chose the island as a bomb test site, and then was bought by one MM Inc. The island was never put on most maps to begin with, making it a perfect place for Nothing Nefarious Whatsoevertm. Moxxi had not been clear as to what Athena would be doing, but it was definitely safe to say it was illegal.

The ship suddenly ground to a wobbly halt, the sound of creaking docks and shouting men throwing ropes announcing their arrival. The petite assassin hauled herself up, turned towards the gangplank, and started stumbling off the ship, narrowly avoiding being bowled over by the hustle of the crew unloading the boat. She grabs her duffel off one of the men, sways off the docks, and proceeds to wander.

The main road in the center of the town is paved, and huge, probably for having major shipments moved to other parts of the island, but the rest are a hodgepodge of paving, cobblestones, and dirt paths. The buildings are about the same, some beautifully built with woodworking, some patched together from sheet metal and plywood on top of leftover concrete walls. But there are flowers and plants growing everywhere, and the air smells of the ocean and a myriad of different foods. Every shop seems to have grown at random, no rhyme or rhythm in terms of necessity or sustainability, like every member of the island set up a storefront simply if they felt like it.

After meandering a little too long, Athena remembers she hasn’t eaten anything besides water, soup, or watered down soup in days. Finally settled on dry land, she decides it’s time to walk in the nearest dispensary of food. She turns immediately into an open doorway, and closes her eyes to breathe in the scent of coffee, cigarettes, and a cacophony of fruity, spicy, and fried things.

“GET THE F*CK OUT OF THE GODDAMN WAY”

Athena ducks a yellow blur and sidesteps a post in a pink cowboy hat only to be tackled by a large cybernetic sasquatch. There is a very faint hiss, then a dripping sound and a shaky whoop from somewhere inside the shop.

“Oh thank god.” The sasquatch heaves, rolling off of his detainee onto the dirt. “We finally got the machine to work! It’s some new-fangled thing that only reacts to voice commands, but since the place is usually noisy the piece of shit never works properly. Last time the coffee pot exploded. I don’t know what kind of coffee makes glass explode, but apparently we make that shit.”

“Well yeah, because you’re usually yelling at someone.” Cowboy hat grumbles. “That and our ‘highly advanced’ tin can over here won’t stop FUCKING DANCING.” A long leg reaches out to roundhouse the wailing yellow box, which flies off down the street while making broken shrieking noises.

Athena sits up and cracks her neck. Taking a second to observe before she takes her security baton and shoves it up the nearest, noisiest idiot, she susses out that that the cyborg is actually a large older man with a ridiculously huge jaw, albeit with most of his limbs and one eye replaced with machinery that is definitely not supposed to come out after at least thirty more years of research and trials. The pink hat is on top of a thin, long-legged woman with purple hair and a revolver in her hand, which is initially concerning until she starts pointing it at the older man and using it to squirt something in his good eye.

“NISHA DID YOU PUT FUCKING COFFEE IN THAT?” The man howls.

“Well no one was BUYING IT because you kept SHOUTING!” Nisha half shouts half laughs.

“BECAUSE YOUR SHIT NOISE WAS BLASTING!”

“YOU APOLOGIZE TO QUEEN BEY RIGHT FUCKING NOW.”

The little yellow box whirs by, its apparently a robot with little spindly arms, a big wheel on the bottom, and one huge eye on the front. Athena follows it towards the café despite her better judgement.

“Greetings, minion!” the robot shouts over Nisha and Angry Guy “I am a CL4P-TP unit, the first of my kind! And also probably the last! You can call me Claptrap! I’m the manager of Mad Moxxi’s Café! And Miss Moxxi has told me youuuuuu are going to also be the manager! By which she obviously meant I am such a great manager that I’m going to have an ASSISTANT manager! That’s you, minion!”

Inside, there is a young man fiddling with cups and syrups behind the counter. His face is scarred along the cheeks and forehead, like a plastic surgery diagram gone bad. He smiles awkwardly and waves a little.

“I’m Timothy. It’s not always this duck and cover I promise.”

“That’s good then…” Athena trails off, unsure of herself for a bit, “What exactly am I supposed to be doing here? Moxxi said I was going to lay low bu-”

“SHHHHHHhhhhh.” Timothy leans heavily on the counter as his arm shoots out, his voice dropping low and quiet.

“We don’t talk about any of that here. To be honest almost all the workers here owe the head lady something or other, and none of it is for a good reason. I’m not saying you shouldn’t trust anybody, but I’m definitely saying don’t trust anybody in this shop.”

Athena sighs and drops her things on the nearest table, which is thankfully a sturdy one, unlike some of the others that look like they were pulled from a scrapyard or cobbled together from old driftwood.

“Can I at least trust the food here?”

Timothy perks up.

“Yeah, I make everything here, so you’re good! This is also the safest place to drink, there’s a bar down the road, but most of the stuff is mixed with Mordy’s personal distillery’s stuff and to be honest we don’t know what’s in it.”

“Good. I’ll take whatever you have as long as its not soup. Also a beer. Please.”


End file.
